As I close my eyes,
With the peak of the highlands
Slipping further away.
My laptop stills my hand,
Artificial life,
Communication cursing the heart,
As my eyes stay in one place.

My voice doesn’t carry across,
Too close to waves pounding
Overhead.
I text you within minutes,
Wishing Gaelic was a language
Option, between us, at least
Once. Someday.

The white chapel is ready, blossoming
Flowers lining a sacred walk,
As I wait and record the motions
Of the sky, like a Druid, searching
For truth. For seasonal life. Then
The chapel appears, blurry on Map Quest,
But an aerial view won’t do today.

I walk down a sandy path,
My finger gently graces the edge
Of a white gate, with my laptop
In my other hand, on standby,
To save energy. In a week, I say,
In a month, a year, maybe more,
I will be here again, with you gently
Relieving my laptop. I hope to feel
Cellular energy, your energy,
Lining the walk.